This entry is courtesy of Sarai’s Blog Topic Ideas.

Today’s topic is: #7 What are you reading right now? Would you recommend it?

Unlike normal people, I am unable to read just ONE book at a time. Well OK… there was this one week in Greece where I voluntarily bored myself to tears with The Sleeping Beauty Syndrome, but that was only because I forgot to pack any books. Needless to say, that was the first and last time I made such a mistake.

I get easily bored, so I sometimes feel the need to just take a break from a certain book and delve into another one, where the writing style/subject is different.
I especially like the feeling when I finish a book, and get to choose another one; I probably look like a demented Gollum or something, during these periods.

My current hit– erm reading list is as follows:

• Treachery in Death, by J.D. Robb (aka Nora Roberts)
  40^th book from the In Death series written by Nora Roberts. The books detail the adventures of the oh-so-awesome NYPSD¹ Lieutenant Eve Dallas and her gorgeous (not to mention filthy rich) husband Roarke.

  Would I recommend this book?
  If you’ve read other books from the series, then yes of course. It’s not the best of the series so far, but for a long-time fan, it’s an interesting enough story line dealing with dirty cops.

  Would I recommend this series?
  Hell yes! You don’t necessarily need to start with the first book², as most books can be read as a standalone: the reader being “reminded” of pertinent back story when needed.

• The Brightest Star in the Sky by Marian Keyes
  A spirit “lands” in an apartment building and proceeds to “peek in” on the lives of the various residents.

  Would I recommend this book?
  I’m a big fan of Marian Keyes’ work in general. I love her quirky humor, the way she tells her stories, and just plain adore her heroines. Nevertheless, I just can’t seem to get into this story the same way I devoured Watermellon or Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married.
  I feel this book has got a somewhat different style, or perhaps it’s the characters who are completely different. It’s not bad… just maybe… I haven’t found myself in the right mood to finish it, I guess.

• Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
  An successful American writer leaves behind a comfortable and seemingly fulfilled existence, to travel the world and find the meaning of life.

  Would I recommend this book?
  I really like this book, so much that once I pick it up I have a real hard time putting it down. If only I didn’t have to work… All this, inspite the fact that I am reading it in Romanian. And, I never read English novels translated³ .
  I have actually watched the movie before I read the book, and quite enjoyed the former⁴. So reading the book creates quite a nice compliment to the movie.

• The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
  This is the story of Liesl, a 9-year-old girl who steals books. The story takes place during World War II, and is narrated by Death (aka the Grim Reaper).

  Would I recommend this book?
  I started reading this book, mainly because Clem kept recommending it. And it’s not a bad book at all. In fact, if you’re a young adult I’d probably even stuff it down your throat and wait nearby all excited while you ‘devour’ it⁵ .
  Unfortunately, I’m not a young adult anymore⁶, and two of my all-time-favorite books were The Diary of Anne Frank and Exodus by Leon Uris. Both of these, dealing with the oppression of Jews during the War.
  However if you’re just now starting to delve into the World War II related literature, I’d definitely recommend starting with the Book Thief, and working your way up to the other two.

Have you read any of these books? If so how did you find them? Or do you perhaps have any suggestions? I ADORE reading, so please don’t hesitate to speak your mind.

1. Yes, there’s an S in there, most probably because this is a sci-fi series.
2. …though it’d be a pity to skip any
3. Well… except for that time in 7th grade when I read Dickens’ David Copperfield in Hungarian… for English class. But that was mainly because I owned the Hungarian version and couldn’t easily find an English version… so I figured the summary would be the same
4. Shame on me
5. … and you’d better devour it mind, not just read it wishy-washily.
6. Though if anyone asks, I’m barely 16, got it?

This entry is courtesy of Sarai’s Blog Topic Ideas.

Today’s topic is: #8 Your definition of success

Upon hearing the word success, my first instinct is to run through a checklist of famous people, like Bill Gates or Steve Jobs¹. After all, Webster Online defines success as “the attainment of wealth, favor, or eminence“. Despite all this, if anyone offered me the opportunity to have their life², I’m not sure I would exactly jump at the opportunity right away.

Now don’t get me wrong, whenever I daydream about my oh-so-elusive future, I invariably end up being some sort of genius, superhero, crème de la crème person. However, the most important part in this amazing utopia, is that I am happy being myself, with all the pros and cons that this may entail.

Of course, my idea of happiness and awesomeness is subject to constant change, so perhaps at one point in my life I will end up desiring Bill Gates’ life³. For the time being however, I just want to be able to find challenges in my work, but not so much I forget to go home to my family. I also want to enjoy going home to do all sorts of mundane things like washing dishes by hand, or littering the kitchen with a tonne of flour in an effort to whip up some dreadfully simple dish. And of course, I want to go on holiday, travelling to all sorts of cool places, listening to a guide prattle on and on about the wonders of the place, and secretly giggling at the inane questions other tourists make.

In other words: whatever I end up becoming, I want to be happy about it. Otherwise, I could be the smartest and most well-known person alive, and still feel like a failure. Well… maybe not a complete failure, buuut close enough.

I almost feel smart now

1. Yes, it does appear like I have a one-track-mind, doesn’t it?
2. Well… assuming Steve Jobs were still alive, of course.
3. Just because I’m stubborn enough, to refuse to become a Mac fan.

This entry is courtesy of Sarai’s Blog Topic Ideas

Today’s subject of interest is: #27 Why do you blog? What got you started?

Right now I blog because … I want to be good at it; preferably in a tangible way: with contests and prizes and of course adoring fans.¹

Some years ago, when I first started my (now mostly defunct) reviewing career² , most everyone would consider³ “blogging for oneself” as the height of perfection, when it came to quality. Not me, I was always blogging for the fame.

Part of the Sin Fest comic series

I like to think of it as : amusing readers by writing about dirty socks⁴. Before you start to feverishly search my archives for entries on socks, let me offer my sincere discouragement: I haven’t yet written said entry.

I had a personal diary up until I was 16 or so, where I religiously chronicled the happenings of my daily life… and I had long since got bored of it. Of course, as I didn’t much care to be labelled as a shameless comment-whore, I just smiled and pretended to be blogging for myself. I dare you to prove I didn’t blog for myself!
In the end, as long as I didn’t end my posts with: unless I get 10 comments on my next blog, I shall woefully slit my wrists, no one could tell.

I have actually written and rewritten this entry about 3 times…by which I mean: “I’m crazy enough to try to read my entries from other people’s point of view” … and am still not satisfied with the outcome. Though I love to blog, I cannot seem to be able to talk about how I got here. After all, how many times can you stand to chronicle your frustration of not getting enough minions?

For those curious:

1. I started blogging some 8 years ago due to an RPG, where all the “cool kids were doing it”. I think I managed to write one single mile-long whine fest, before I disgusted even myself.
2. I re-started blogging because all the “cool kid” fans of a site I liked, were doing it. I lasted 4 design changes… and no whine fests. Probably because, whining without an audience is dreadfully boring.
3. I continued blogging, because apparently I had at least on adoring fan who even offered to host me.
4. … and finally, I keep blogging, granted in a highly sporadic manner, because I figure I should not let my yearly hosting fee be paid for nothing.

The end… you can stop snoring now.

1. My adoring fans to be precise
2. I love adding lofty titles, to my otherwise boring hobbies
3. and loudly so, lest someone from the opposite hemisphere didn’t hear them
4. I fervently hope there are no sock fetishists among my you, because I’ll definitely get lynched

This entry is courtesy of Sarai’s Blog Topic Ideas , if you missed me you should send her flowers… or some yummy chocolate.

Today’s topic is: #8 Where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10 years?

Not sure about others, but I have always had trouble visualizing anything over 6 months into the future. I have an incredibly active fantasy life: beautiful princess, fearless ninja, or just a plain old pain-in-the-butt… I can fantasize about being and acting like any of those¹ .

And yet… no matter how nice and tempting it all sounds, this still remains firmly rooted in a fantasy world. Kind of like dress-up: I could certainly act like a dragon-slayer for a while, but in the long run I’d probably get all bored, and inevitably pissed off at the world. Ultimately that would not be me².

One could say this might be my reluctance to commit to something serious and also diligently work on it. But when you come to think of it, there are so many interesting things you can do. What if I have a revelation, midway through my self-imposed goal of say… baking 16437 pancakes to feed the needy³ . I can almost feel my tears come out, just thinking about this very remote possibility. *cue imaginary bawling *

I guess I’m much too selfish to commit to anything for such a long term. Of course, this means that I will inevitably end up contradicting myself, just so I don’t have to commit to my lack of commitment… Have I completely confused you by now? Good, good: that was totally my intention… or I think it was.

In conclusion: the short answer would be I see myself alive⁴ and doing something interesting.
The not so-short answer: I see myself doing not just your garden-variety interesting stuff, but the oh-so-special type, which not even I can picture at the moment⁵ .

Disclaimer: Amazingly enough, this post was written in a completely sober state of mind… erm, mild stomach-aches do not count, right?

1. In a most brilliant manner, of course
2. And let’s face it, I’m awesome enough as it is, no need to rub it even more in people’s faces.
3. Yes, yes, this is the part where you all keel over and start making retching noise. Go ahead, go ahead…
4. … and kicking, thank you very much! :fist:
5. This is supposed to sound all very serious, by the way.

This entry is courtesy of Sarai’s Blog Topic Ideas , if you missed me you should send her flowers… or some yummy chocolate.

Today’s topic is: #23 What you aspired to be when you were a child; has it changed?

The first time my professional future ever came up, was during a discussion with dad. It’s one of those rare memories which I now associate with “a long time ago…”¹ . I remember being completely at a loss of what I could possibly become. Somehow I figured that professional cartoon watcher was not exactly a feasible choice – according to my parents, at any rate. So I did the most logical thing and consulted dad² .

Me: Dad, what will I become when I’ll be older?
Dad: If you’ll have good marks, you’ll be able to become anything. If not, you will probably have to settle for something boring.

Don’t you just admire parents’ ability to sneak a preaching into an otherwise harmless conversation? How do they do it?!

Obviously this answer was rather disappointing to me. Come to think of it, it was also such a blatant lie. My mother had very good marks in high school, and yet when I asked her how she decided on her electrical engineering major, she said “There was nothing else I could do”.
Granted, I was probably procrastinating my Maths homework³ at the time, but that is no reason to crush a poor kid’s sould like that⁴ .

My next memory was to become an English translator, something which lasted quite a long time. Probably all the way through junior high school, when my parents yet again saw fit to destroy my dreams. I mean who knew that not EVERY translator got to accompany the president? I call that mightily unfair.

I think I might have even had a brief stint of “I wanna be a mad scientist”⁵ , when I first started learning Chemistry in grade 7. Unfortunately, that particular dream was shot right down the drain, when my 8th grade teacher turned out to be much older and was very fond of… “OH DEAR! Don’t you know this?! What have you been taught last year?”. The fact that it was around this time, that I stopped understanding my Chemistry classes, is probably just a minor little detail.

As for how I ended up becoming a computer programmer? I think it was mainly a fashion thing. When I started high school, studying computer programming was the IT thing to do. Plus it always sounded so cool when I told people⁶. For anyone considering computer science as a major, I still get those looks of awe .
Unfortunately fashion-powered passions are not quite as easy to fuel as those sprung from genuine affinity. It’s probably why I’ve stressed myself through high school, skirted heart attacks in uni⁷ and then almost had a nervous breakdown during my first day on the job.

And yet… I’m miraculously in a job I like, and can do reasonably well. Someone even called me a person who “gets things done“, so I guess I must be doing something right. </show off>

As for my passion for English, I’m the proud owner of the Resident-Spell-Checker title on the team⁸.

1. In a galaxy far far away, which has since been hidden in the bowels of time… I should probably just stop trying to enhance quotes with disgusting metaphors.
2. Possibly because Google had not yet been invented, so I had to make do with what I could find.
3. … and let’s be realistic, there’s this universal law which just forces kids to procrastinate Maths homeworks. If you didn’t, your childhood must’ve sucked. Neer neer neer
4. I guess THAT answers the question: I’ve always wanted to be a drama-queen *poses*
5. Though I’ve always imagined myself impeccably groomed, with a long flowing white coat and lethal looking stiletto heels
6. Who learned such mainstream stuff as Literature or Biology
7. Mainly during finals
8. Or maybe it’s resident smartarse? Who can keep track of it all, eh?

Well alright, like any self-respecting geek, I spend a fair amount of time glued to 9gag, to the point that I started thinking of things as “looking legit” in day-to-day activity. Paypal wants to grab an extra dollar from me… well it seems like a legit purpose, right?

Career advice websites however… that’s just plain worrying. See, in my mind I’m still that air-headed 16-year-old, who would change her mind ten times² about her future job. And now I’ve ended up admitting to having taken up residence in Allison’s virtual backyard. In other words, I’ve been religiously reading Ask A Manager dot com.

Do you know how many ways you can muck up an interview? I don’t³ , but I’ve started to get worrying flash-backs of blog articles during interviews. They’re mostly about “why are you sharing all this?!”.
Occasionally, I would also start comparing interviewers to Allison⁴.
Things like… would AAM have asked me all this? Or more to the point, if I send you a reply saying:

Thank you for your kind offer.

I am attaching my CV, with more detailed information about my professional experience in English.

would she phone me to ask for a more detailed CV in English⁵ ?!

There’s also this amazing feeling when I read her don’ts lists … and I realize that “whoa! 99% of that is all stuff that I do “. I wonder if that’s how people feel when they experience impending doom…

All in all, I think what really cemented my fawning tendencies are the “let’s talk about this” type of posts. Who knew that writing something brief and concise⁶ could be such a riveting read?

P.S. This entry is courtesy of Sarai’s Blog Topic Ideas , if you missed me you should send her flowers… or some yummy chocolate.

1. …should I start referring to things as mag or iced you should totally blame Nora Roberts, that wicked wicked woman
2. daily, that is
3. … seeing as my foot and mouth meet up way too often to count
4. because let’s face it, reading her blog totally makes me an expert on AAM‘s persona… oh wait
5. Ironically enough, my phone number was in said CV… so the attachment must’ve at least been opened.
6. unlike this amazing example of a verbal di–… erm blog entry

The summer between 4th and 5th grades was an intense one. A Reading and a Maths school book had somehow materialized in my meager 10-year-old self’s library, and they were ever so keen to get to know me in a more intimate way… That is to say, my mom was trying to cram them down my throat and I was busy thinking up avoidance techniques.

School books for 2nd grade¹ .

The first day of middle school, left quite a horrified imprint on my tender 11-year-old life. I couldn’t understand a word during history and geography classes. Understandably under such dire circumstances, the impending “menace” of religious education classes sort of slipped my mind. That is until a pesky little paper slip had made its presence known, asking about students’ religious denomination.

As usual, my mom had done her research, and found out that while religious education was no longer optional, one could choose to attend a different class. So yet again, there was the oddball, whose paper slip looked like:

Of course, just because we had a law that said “Thou shall either attend religious education or civic education classes in middle school” did not in any way mean there was an actual school equipped with a civic education teacher²… In other words, my mom seemed to be the only one to know about such a law…

Sure enough, the next day a perplexed Mathematics teacher started class with:

Teacher: One of your parents wrote “civic education” on the paper slip…

Cue excited murmurs and not-so-subtle staring at random classmates.

Teacher: I don’t know where this parent heard about such a thing, but we don’t have it.

I had never been so glad to be a new kid in my entire life. Nobody knew me, and the flashing neon sign stating “I am a heathen atheist” had finally gotten lost in the mail. Oh and best of all: I got to attend religious education classes!

Oddly enough, I barely remember anything about 5th grade religious education classes. Someone had recommended the Greek Catholic rite teacher, so that’s what I ended up attending…

I remember my 6th grade much better though. The teacher was called Leonia Conea, and she took the class extremely seriously. Not that other teachers didn’t… it’s just that there was this sort of tacit understanding that while religious education was important, one could not possibly put it on the same level as say, Maths or Literature.

Orthodox icon shop, in Greece.³

It was also during 6th grade that I had seen my first Greek Catholic liturgy⁴, and had promptly decided that I’d never get baptized in this rite.

I had gone to both Reformed worship services and Roman Catholic masses during primary school and had actually quite enjoyed both of them⁵ . While Roman Catholic and Protestant services generally have the priest/minister speak about one subject or another… Orthodox and Greek Catholic services have them sing about it.

For your viewing pleasure, below you have a 3 minute video of a Greek Catholic liturgy in Romanian. As far as I’m concerned, the whole thing looks the same only it lasts an hour, instead of 3 minutes.⁶

It was during 7th grade that I had started to take a more … active approach in my religious education. Our teacher was a very pretty and very friendly young woman⁷, who was much more approachable than any teacher I had ever met.

… and she taught us about the sacrament of baptism. If I hadn’t been such a typical goody-two-shoes, I believe my neon sign with the “heathen atheist” claim would’ve surely made a spectacular comeback and taken someone’s eye out on the way as a bonus. I think I must’ve stopped the teacher every five minutes with a barrage of questions. After class, having been thoroughly freaked out by the implication of the lack of baptism, I of course made a bee line to the teacher to tell her about my… situation.

At the time, I had a sort of love-hate relationship with a classmate. She was constantly trying to push my buttons, but as soon as I got seriously mad at her, she’d instantly change tactics so we’d be all “bosom friends” once again. Just enough to throw me off balance, and then the spiel would start up again.

As soon as she saw me approach the teacher, she literally glued herself to me and refused to move.

Me: I’d like to have a private talk with you if possible.
Teacher: Yes of course.

We both turned to the girl and looked at her pointedly. She gave us a wide smile and generously urged us to continue.

Girl (grinning manically): I wanna hear it too!
Teacher: Really, have a bit of respect for your classmate.
Girl (still sporting the manic grin): I’m not leaving. I want to know too.
Me (whining): Oh come on…
Girl: No way! I wanna know!

Against my better judgement and mostly because recess was threatening to end⁸ I let the girl hear the story.
Apparently, my 13-year-old self was an open book complete with explanatory footnotes, as the teacher did not appear to be at all phased. I do still greatly appreciate her kindly answer “Oh I suspected something along those lines “.

I don’t exactly remember what I had hoped to achieve by telling the teacher all this. Plus, she was soon replaced by a different teacher⁹ ; letting the girl know about my lack of baptism was the singular worst decision of my entire middle school life.

Being different to everyone else, I was always intensely susceptible to any mean remark… always on tenterhooks that something awful would be discovered about me and then it would be all over¹⁰. I tended to cry a lot over nothing, which of course was a weakness one of the boys was ever so happy to exploit. And the girl… oooh, she just loved to blackmail me.

I don’t remember what we were fighting about anymore, only that I was cleaning the blackboard while she stood by and wanted to me to do something…

Girl (showing her trademark manic grin): Do it or I’ll tell him you’re not baptized.
Me (gritting my teeth): No you won’t…
Girl: Don’t try my patience…
Me (unconvincingly): You wouldn’t dare… You promised!
Girl: So what? Do it, or I’ll tell the whole class¹¹.
Me (firmly): No!

Still grinning, the girl turns around and speaks up, getting everyone’s attention.

Girl (smugly): Hey guys! Guess what? Vera’s not baptized!

People stare at her nonplussed, while some murmur something along the lines of “yeah, right…”. Clearly frustrated, the girl then turns to my main tormentor, stressing my lack of baptism again.

Guy (rudely): Have you recently hit your head? :huh:
Girl (nearly hysterical by now): I swear she’s not!
Guy (turning to me): What church were you baptized in?
Me (heart hammering a mile per second): I… don’treallyremember.
Guy (to the girl): You’re a basket case, you know?

When I recall the events now, I feel extremely giddy about it all. It was one of the few times I had managed to get the clear upper hand over her. My 13-year-old self however, was a tad bit too busy getting a heart attack to fully appreciate the irony of it all.

The rest of my 7th grade was marked by my futile attempts of converting my parents.

Me: He exists!
Dad (gamely): Ok… if you prove it, I’ll believe you.
Me (glaring): …

Me: Just look at *insert random daily event* It’s clear that God had a “hand” in it.
Dad: Coincidence.

Vera stomps away to get more “ammo”, and the battle resumes the next day.

Interaction with my mom were even more frustrating. She’d be all logical and gently prodding. Things generally ended up circling the subject of “Do you think I’m a bad person?”. Obviously, I never had an adequate response to that.

I don’t think my parents have ever been hounded as much by traveling Jehova’s Witnesses either, and they used to be quite the persistent ones.

It was during 8th grade that my faith changed, not by much, but it would influence the way I’d see things for a long time… Sometimes I think the effects still last.

To be continued in part 3…

In the unlikely event that you’ve managed to follow me this far, feel free to add your own .02 cents. You can of course comment even if you just skimmed through it. Just as long as you’re not trying to sell me something.

1. Original picture from Bucurestii de altadata, couldn't find images for the 4th grade ones I used.
2. Classic example of Romanian bureaucracy in all its glory.
3. FTR, I'm the one who took the picture in 2008, when I went to Greece on holiday.
4. The term used for religious mass by the Orthodox and Greek Catholic rites.
5. … except for the part where you had to sing the religious hymns: it always seemed that I was the only one not knowing the lyrics.
6. Yes I am in fact a sadist, why do you ask?
7. Who had recently given birth and had us girls constantly coo over the lovely name Carina that she had chosen for her little girl.
8. I was constantly stressed about being even half a millisecond late to class: everybody would just stare at me and…. and…
9. So I had to tell the whole story again… this time, thankfully without the impertinent peanut gallery present.
10. Every 13-year-old is a drama queen, what makes you think I was any different?
11. Ironically, only about half the class was taking the subject. We had a few classes where we’d be separated into groups, so the teacher could better follow each of our progress.

From left to right:

• President surrounded by high-ranking Orthodox priests².
• Mayor commemorating a victim of the 1989 Communist Revolution³.
• Yearly gathering at Nicula Monastery to commemorate the Assumption of Mary⁴

At home before I started school, religion was not something we discussed. It was not a taboo subject or anything of the like; just something that never really came up. We celebrated Christmas… or rather its communist alternative where Father Frost (as opposed to Father Christmas) would bring nice kids gifts. There was also a lavishly decorated pine tree too, underneath which said presents were placed.

I vaguely remember singing a traditional Hungarian Christmas carol, every time before entering the living room to open gifts. It was called “Mennyböl az angyal” which translates to “The Angel from Heaven”. I had no idea what “Menny” (Heaven) meant at the time, so I would often sing it as “Megyböl az Angyal”, meaning “The Angel from the sour cherry”, much to my poor Grandmother’s horror.

My first God-related memory, stems from my kinder garden days. I think I was around 5, tucked in bed for the afternoon nap, holding a whispered conversation with the girl next to me:

Me: And what about God?
Girl: Huh?
Me (uncertainly): He’s inside you…
Girl (flippantly): He’s gone for a walk.

… then came the Communist Revolution and a year after that, I started primary school.

I attended a Hungarian primary school, and my parents fought tooth and nail to get me this amazing primary school teacher. She had also taught my older cousin⁵ . If you thought that Hungarians were any less religious than Romanians… well you would’ve been sadly mistaken. Sometimes I think that the fact that they’re an ethnic minority, somehow made them even more religious. Perhaps as a way of seeking refuge against the evil Romanians and their perfid ways .

One of the first things the teacher was required to ask, was our religious denomination to know which religious education class to put us into. For some reason, this was supposed to be a public flogging event, where everyone would stand up and state things like ‘I’m a Reformed‘ or ‘I’m a Catholic‘. When it was my turn, I just stood there all confused and eventually said ‘I’m… nothing.’

The teacher was of course flabbergasted, and the whole class turned to stare at me. I was never very comfortable in a crowd, so obviously being looked at as the oddity of the millennium didn’t exactly help. In the end, I was told to sit down, ask my parents and give my answer the next day. All this was said in a tone hinting towards “of course you’re baptized, you silly goose “.

Going home, I meekly recounted the story to my mother:

Me: So… today I was asked what my religion was.
Mom: Oh? And what did you say?
Me: I said I was nothing⁶ .
Mom: You said correctly.
Me: What about you then?
Mom: I wasn’t baptized either. Daddy was baptized in the Greek Catholic rite, but he’s not any more religious than I am.
Me(uncertainly): So… what religious education class am I going to attend then?
Mom: You are not. It’s not a compulsory class.

The next day, when the teacher asked me of my religion (in front of the whole class once again), I promptly answered “I am Catholic”. This seemed to pacify everyone and the issue appeared to have been dropped. I did feel rather lousy for having lied, but I figured that since most kids had their parents’ religion, it was not so much of a stretch for me to claim my dad’s.

Of course, things didn’t stop here. The next episode I remember had to do with bringing documents to school. Once again, students – or rather students’ parents – who forgot are publicly humiliated reminded to bring them to school.

Teacher: Please tell your parents that we need your “cross letter⁷” at school.
Me(dreading to answer): I don’t have one…
Teacher(incredibly annoyed): Of course you do! Everybody has one!

At home, my mom once again confirmed that I didn’t have such a thing, wondering why the teacher had asked of such a thing. After all she had gone and personally told the teacher that I was not baptized. Luckily, by some stroke of luck I mentioned the incident to my Granny, who used to be a primary school teacher as well, and she saved the day. Apparently “cross letter” was an old term for birth certificate…

The rest of my primary school days are not quite so clear in my memory. It’s mostly a series of events where the teacher would ask me in front of the whole class “Why aren’t your parents letting you attend religious education classes? You’re not being taught anything bad there.” followed by classmates parroting the teacher, of course.
Sometimes, I would try to retort, but of course being still an 8-year-old child, this didn’t really go well:

Me: My parents are not mean, they bought me a Bible and let me read it.
Teacher (haughtily): As if you could understand the Bible. Not even I can fully understand it.

Cue classmates staring at me pityingly, while I do my best to be swallowed by the ground.

After that I would generally be running home to my parents, tearfully begging to be allowed to attend religious education classes. My parents however, were not the uneducated hillbillies my primary school teacher was used to dealing with… they were sneaky and knew my character quite well.
Our ‘negotiations’went pretty much like this:

Dad: Why do you want to attend religious education classes?
Me (bawling): Because everyone else is attending!
Dad: But you’d have to go to school an hour earlier or stay an hour later.
Me (wavering): … yes.
Dad: And you’d have more homework too…
Me: Yeah… they even have tests during classes.
Dad: Do you really need extra homework? On top of your swimming lessons/ piano classes?!
Me (sulkily): … no.

Of course, I’d forget all the above and sneak out earlier some days to attend religious education classes. Classmates were all really happy to let me attend, especially since this was one thing they knew which the top of the class⁸ didn’t. But you know, in the end the novelty wore off for both sides. I still sometimes stealthily sneaked into these classes once in a blue moon, but having extra homework to worry about put a serious damper on ever considering attending “full time”. Not to mentioned that I liked being treated as somewhat of a celebrity.
My classmates, they continued to be horrified at my doing needle-work on Sunday⁹.

In the end, I managed to do something even worse than be an atheist heathen. After finishing primary school, I decided to go to a Romanian school… Well technically my parents decided this, and disgustingly enough I was more swayed by their logical arguments than my classmates’ repeated insults or my teacher’s claims that my Romanian knowledge was already very good¹⁰.

After this, things … started to change on the “religious front“. I’ll let you decide if it was for the better or worse in Part 2.

Feel free to share your (early) religious experiences, or other comments related to this… well assuming of course anyone was patient enough to get here.

1. Not necessarily of a religious nature.
2. Picture from How Religious Are Romanian Politicians
3. Picture from December 22nd 2009 at Falticeni
4. Picture from Nicula a magnet for Christians and Politicians
5. Whose coolness level skyrockets by the mere fact that he’s 3 years older than I am.
6. At the time, I didn’t think of the irony of saying such a thing, and my mom is not the type to think of “hidden meanings”.
7. A literal translation of keresztlevél
8. i.e. yours truly
9. We had to sew a skirt once, and as per usual I had put things off till the very last minute.
10. It all depends on who you were comparing me to, after all.

Lovely jewellery from Millefiori

Sales girl: What about these? They’re the same model as the one’s on the top shelf.
Me (enthusiastically): Oh they’re lovely… but I rather like the color contrast of the ones from the shelf, but not colors themselves… would you have that is yellow or brown?
Sales girl: Oh er…

To her credit, she didn’t seem to visibly insult me². Score for customer service, I guess

1. coughI’msoeffinglaxycough
2. …not even mentally

Case in point, this following conversation:

Me: So I finally got around to going to the dentist. And she told me the reason for my swollen cheek; it is dental alveolistis.
Friend: … I have no idea what that is.
Me: I didn’t either, so I googled it. Bad idea…
Friend (now very interested): Well what is it?
Me: It’s a complication that can arise after a tooth extraction. Among other things, it can involve the superficial necrosis of the jaw bone. *cue oppressing silence*
Friend (meekly): … um… what does necrosis mean?
Me: Oh you know… like in necrophilia…
Friend: *blank stare*
Me: You know what zoophilia means, right?¹ It’s the same, only with dead people.
Friend: *looks at me aghast*
Me: OK, that was a bad example… it’s like necromancy.²
Friend: Huh?
Me (sheepishly): The art of reviving dead people… well… not that this actually exists.
Friend (aghast): Oh…
Me: So basically necro refers to dead things.

In retrospect, I’m starting to think that dropping that teaching module in university might have been a good idea. Or maybe not?

1. It refers to humans having sex with animals, for those of you who don’t read all the creepy stuff that I do.
2. I swear I learned of this word from reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s Hobbit, yes I’m serious.